The Girl in the Window

“Will I ever see you again?” asked Sarah to the knight.

The knight turned around and smiled down at her from atop his steed, a sincere kindness emanating from his pale blue eyes. The morning sunlight danced a waltz in his long blonde hair, free of the cruel confines of the dull gray helmet that would be his savior in battle. His head gave her a quick, friendly nod.

“My love, to know that you wait for my return shall be all I need to see myself come back alive.”

She smiled and blushed brightly at his words, her straight shoulder-length brown hair neatly swaying to the side with the gentle wind in the air. Her green eyes sparkled as she walked up to him. Daintily, he took her hand as she offered it to him, and kissed it gently, a hint of sorrow and longing on his lips. She bowed her head, and then looked up at him, resting her hand back against her side. One last sad smile was given to her by the knight before he snapped the reins and called at the horse, riding off towards the horizon. His figure slowly became smaller and smaller as the distance between them grew. Although she wished so much that he did not have to go, she knew that he must.

Her concentration was disrupted, however, by a sudden voice.

“Sarah!”

She looked up, finding herself in her bed at home. She had been daydreaming once again, lost in her own self-constructed world, as she tended to do for much of the day. In front of her, she stared at the plaid blankets and the floral sheet that gracefully covered her legs. She sighed disappointedly, the memories of the handsome knight still fresh in her mind.

Her room was furnished in a fairly simple manner. The cozy bed was against the back wall, in the middle of the room, and to her left lay a small, quiet wooden dresser, in which articles of clothing were stored, and on top of which she kept notepads and pencils. A small chair also rested against the wall near the dresser, as if awaiting the next time it might be useful to its owner.

To her right against the far wall, another dresser made its home, this one with a large mirror jutting above the drawers, like a silent watcher over the room that sees everything. The lonely door to the room was in front of her to the left, and to her immediate right was a single kindly window through which sunlight gained entry into the area. The wallpaper in the room was a subdued floral print, with pale blues and light purples its most prominent colors – not boring, but introverted nonetheless.

Before long, the origin of the voice made its presence known as a man walked through the door into her bedroom. The man looked at her, and then sat down in the chair next to her bed.

“How are you doing, sweetie?” asked the man.

Sarah smiled faintly.

“I’m okay, Daddy.”

Her father smiled back.

“That’s good, that’s good.” His face changed to sudden realization. “Oh, that’s right. I got a phone call earlier today; Dr. Suzuki should be by today to check up on you. I think he’ll be here soon.”

Sarah’s face brightened.

“Oh, good. I like seeing Dr. Suzuki.”

“I’m just glad to see you happy, Sarah.”

Her father nodded silently for a few seconds before kissing her forehead and rising to his feet.

“Well, I won’t disturb you any further. I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Without another word, her father walked out of the room, leaving her alone in bed. She looked out the window in her room to the summer landscape outside. In a nearby tree, there was a single songbird chirping his happy little songs for her, his voice joining with the beams of sunlight in providing warmth for her heart. The vision of a lake swayed in her eyes further in the distance, on which a group of ducks could be seen merrily paddling across. Sarah always smiled to herself when looking at her window, as she could not help but feel that she had the best view in the entire house in front of her.

Once she had stared out the window long enough to satisfy her thirst for the sunlight and blue skies, she turned to her left and retrieved a notebook and pencil from the top of the dresser and then sat back against the wall behind her. Days gone by drifted plaintively through her head as she flipped through the notebook. Her favorite pastime in the world was drawing, and the pages of the notebook were filled to the brim with doodles, sketches, and miscellaneous works done by her. Most of what she drew came either from what she saw outside her window, from books she read, or from stories that her father would tell her before bedtime, as there was very little else that she was able to see.

As she got comfortable, she pondered to herself what she wanted to draw while putting the pencil to a new page in the notebook. Finally, she decided that she would draw the songbird that she had seen outside, as she loved his daily serenade; it was as if he were a peculiar lover. Before long, her pencil began moving up and down the page, creating monochromatic form where there once was an empty white void as if it were an almighty creator. This would be a happy bird, she told herself, a carefree bird – a bird that can fly free through the clouds as she often did in her dreams. As her hand dragged the graphite along the page, the bird began to take shape, her pencil slicing through the air. She paused, however, and began drawing more slowly and meticulously when she came to the bird’s eye. Though the body nearly encased the insides completely, she always told herself that it was the eye that provided a window into the souls, like a solitary porthole on a grand ship of dreams, and she strived to make it the best part of her drawing, every time.

Once it was finally complete, and holding the paper bird out in front of her, she smiled and glanced back out the window. The bird had been sadly snatched from the tree by the cruel hands of time, but she knew he would be back soon enough.

Just then, however, her concentration was rudely interrupted by a sudden knock at the front door of the house.

“Coming!” came her father’s voice from elsewhere in the house. There came the inevitable thump, thump, thump against the hardwood floor, and then the sound of a door being opened. Though it was in the distance, Sarah could still barely make out the sound of the voices.

“Oh, hello, Doctor!” came her father’s voice once more. “Come in, come in.”

Sarah’s face brightened at the news that it was Dr. Suzuki. She loved her father, but only talking to one person regularly had a certain way of making anyone rather tired of the same old routine. The effect that the doctor’s visits had on her, she mused, was much the effect that going out for dinner had on families. Before long, the footsteps she heard drew nearer, and the doctor entered her room. He gently smiled at her.

“Well, hello, Sarah. And how are we feeling today?”

Sarah gave him a brave smile.

“I’m okay.”

Dr. Suzuki nodded and stared at the floor silently for a while before looking up once again.

“Well, I’m just here for our usual checkup, so if I may…”

Sarah nodded. By this time, Sarah had had so many medical examinations that they were simply a part of her normal life, whether she liked it or not. As time ticked away from the hourglass of eternity, the examination proceeded and came to a completion before long.

“So how has your home life been?” asked the doctor, the checkup having come to a completion. “Is your father keeping you busy in here? I imagine it can get awfully boring.”

“Oh, yes, he teaches me things they learn at school and gives me books to read. And I draw a lot.” She smiled. “I keep myself amused.”

“Well, that’s good.” Dr. Suzuki cleared his throat. “I must be going. Take care of yourself.”

“See you again.”

Without another word, Dr. Suzuki rose to his feet and exited the room. The sound of the door closing behind him heralded the sad end of another break of the monotony in Sarah’s life. She would never tell anyone, but she was never as happy as she let on. Her lifeblood was her drawings and her daydreams, as they provided the foundation upon which her sanity rested.

Her father and Dr. Suzuki began to converse as they often did immediately outside her room, and their words passed through the wall easily. She was never quite certain if they were unaware that she could hear them or if they were secretly hoping she could hear.

“So? So?” pleased her father, a distinct unease dripping from his lips as he spoke. Dr. Suzuki sighed.

“Well, everything looked fairly normal. I think she’s stable… at least for now, at any rate.”

“Oh… well, that’s good.”

“Well, I must be going. I’ll be back, same time as always. Give me a call if anything develops. Be sure that she gets plenty of rest and–”

Her father laughed slightly.

“You’ve been reminding me of all this for years, Doctor.”

“Sorry. Force of habit.” Dr. Suzuki coughed. “Anyway, take care.”

Sarah listened lazily as the doctor’s footsteps slowly became fainter and fainter, until they could no longer be heard at all. She took a few deep breaths and looked back out the window, seeing there that the world had kindly put the songbird back into the tree. The bird in the tree was still chirping his happy little song, completely oblivious to what was going in the house before him. She attempted a smile while watching him, but her heart could not follow through. Slowly, her eyelids grew heavier as her head relaxed on the pillow, and her eyes began to close.

And then, as if by some unseen magic, she was underwater. As the currents of the waters lightly brushed and caressed her face, her mermaid’s tail glistened like a patch of emeralds in the sunlight from above that penetrated the water’s surface. A glittering set of jewels breezed by in the form of a school of fish, their numbers as innumerable as the stars in the night sky. Her eyes were affixed to them as they swerved in and out of assorted fauna sprouting from the sea floor, mesmerized by their utterly hypnotic figure.

As the fish began to exit the visible space before her eyes, her sparkling fish’s tail sprang into sudden motion, propelling her forward through the watery depths with ease. The landscape sped past her eyes and blended together into a blur as the gentle currents pulled her hair back and away from her face, exposing her pretty features for all the sea life to see. As she closed her eyes, the world slowly faded away into blissful nothingness.

Her concentration was abruptly broken, however, as a sudden, frantic gurgling sound erupted from parts unknown. She glanced from side to side, but quickly recognized its source as a panicked teenaged boy struggling break free from a sadistic piece of seaweed that had wrapped around his ankle and was slowly draining the life from his lungs. Without another thought, she sprang into action and swam up to him, his dark brown eyes breathlessly pleading for her aid.

Without taking on his panicked demeanor, however, she wrapped her arms around his body, and their lips embraced. As a sandcastle might melt into the sea, his abject fear drifted away and merged with the endless reaches of the waters, the breath of life finally returning to his body. Once rejuvenated, he watched as Sarah tore away the seaweed with a slight touch of anger, and then returned to him and carried him upwards towards the surface of the water.

“Oh, thank you, thank you ever so much, Miss,” began the boy. “I won’t forget your kindness for all my days!”

“Will you be all right?” she asked, a directed concern entwined in her voice.

“Oh yes, you needn’t worry about that. I can swim. I just got so careless…” He shook his head. “I’ll go straight back to shore.”

“All right then.” She smiled at him. “Be safe.”

The boy gave her one last grateful smile before clumsily paddling away. She shook her head that he was swimming alone, but thought to herself that it was all right; all’s well that ends well, and surely he learned a lesson today. Without another thought, she flipped backwards and returned to the depths of the water. Having done her good deed for the day, the sea floor gladly accepted her return with open arms.

The reunion was cut short by a sudden, sinister blast from beneath her, however. Like a demon reaching up to her from hell, the sea floor suddenly split open and a great whirlpool burst forth, sucking her towards it. Though she tried to resist, she found her tail replaced with human legs, and the gills with which she had breathed suddenly absent. Her lungs burned with agony as she clawed at the water to escape, but no such escape was forthcoming.

She sat up in her bed with a start, her lungs feeling as if they contained the fire of hell itself. She hacked, and coughed, and coughed some more, but there would be no rest for her body. Panic-stricken, her father dashed into the room. Trying her best to speak, her voice was lost in her throat, leaving her nothing but her frightened emerald eyes with which to communicate her thoughts.

“Are you okay?” her father managed to squeeze out of his strained neck. “I’ll get the doctor! I’ll get the doctor!”

For what seemed like an eternity, she sat hunched over, helpless to do anything but reflexively expel her lungs of the toxin that lay within. Finally, Dr. Suzuki arrived on the scene and the treatment of the symptoms began.

“All right,” said Dr. Suzuki at last to her father, wearily massaging his brow with his hand. Sarah lay unconscious in her bed. “I’ve stabilized her respiratory system. The spasms should calm down for now, as long as she rests.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” her father strained out through painful exhaustion. “When I saw her, I…”

Dr. Suzuki sighed and shook his head.

“Mr. Robinson, I mean no offense, but… you’ve known all along that she wasn’t going to get better.”

“But my wife, she–”

“I don’t know how to put this nicely: your wife was a medical anomaly, or if you wish to bring delusion into it, miracle. It’s entirely genetic, and you knew very well that there was at least a fifty percent chance that this would happen.”

“But…”

The doctor’s voice grew sterner.

“That your wife survived to give childbirth was like winning the lottery, not something to be relied upon.”

“But you have to help her! You must!”

The doctor put up his hands in front of his chest.

“Rest assured, Mr. Robinson, I will do whatever I can to help her live her life. I just want to be reasonable about this. I cannot abide the spreading of false hope.”

“I–” Her father shook his head. “I know…”

“Well, I don’t think there is much more that I can do at this point in time.” Dr. Suzuki loudly cleared his throat. “Good day.”

After an extended period of time, Sarah’s eyes wearily opened. Having no strength at all with which to move her head, she could only shift her eyes to the general direction of the window. Though her vision was blurry in the haze of tiredness and pain in her body, she could faintly make out the figure of the songbird. Just as the songbird came into view, however, it disappeared. Combined with the image of the autumn landscape outside her window, Sarah knew that this time, it would be gone for a long time. She was by herself now, like a solemn tree in autumn once its final leaf becomes devoid of life and is whisked away by the bully of a wind.

Once more her father came into the room, sitting on the only available chair. Silence hung in the air as Sarah made neither any motion towards him nor any acknowledgement of his presence. She closed her eyes, but this time there were no dreams, only searing pain in her chest, creating labored and shallow breathing. Finally, she broke the silence.

“It…” She swallowed. “It hurts, Daddy…”

Her father, not knowing what in the world to do, simply sighed and nodded.

“I know, Sweetie. I know.”

Having nothing further to say, her father simply got to his feet and walked out the door. Sarah’s eyes turned back to the window, in which various leaves fluttered by aimlessly in a gentle fall breeze.

“Well, friend…”

She began speaking to the songbird. It was unclear whether her mind had truly acknowledged its absence and that she was talking to herself, or whether she simply did not accept that the bird was no longer there.

“It’s been… a nice life…”

No one responded. Her voice was too weak and her father was too far away, and there was not another soul in earshot.

“I wonder how much longer I have…”

Her voice trailed off as she found herself drifting into sleep. Given her abject fatigue, she offered no resistance to the sensation, and slowly faded out of consciousness. The sentence was left forever unfinished, lost into the void of darkness.

Sarah awoke to sudden hurried footsteps, however. As she opened her eyes wearily, she was surprised to see Dr. Suzuki in front of her along with her father.

“Sarah!” her father began. “Sarah, it’s… I mean, I… I… Dr. Suzuki, please tell her!”

Dr. Suzuki sighed and cleared his throat.

“Look, I’m not saying this to raise any hopes, but… I’ve talked to a colleague, who has informed me of a new procedure intended to treat the condition that you have. The procedure has recently been approved for clinical testing by the ethics committee and the government, and there’s a center not too far from here that will be participating in these tests. I told your father–”

“Don’t you see, Sarah!?” interrupted her father. “If we enroll you as a patient, they can cure you!”

“We…” The doctor grumbled. “We can administer the procedure, which has shown initial promise in laboratory tests, and monitor the effect on the patient’s condition.” He shook his head. “That’s all.”

“Oh, enough of that, Doctor. Sarah, I’ll let you know when we’re heading to the medical center!”

“All… all right,” she replied.

As her father and Dr. Suzuki left, Sarah pondered her peculiar situation. Where before she had been dead, now she was alive again. She looked out the window once again.

“Must I continue for a little longer…?”

It was a long, arduous journey for Sarah to simply get her out of bed and into the ambulance waiting for her. As she lay in the vehicle, its engine softly rumbling as it sped down the road, her eyes stared in an unfocused manner out the windows in the back door. Though it did not appear to be accumulating on anything yet, there was a very light snowfall in the air, the first indication that winter’s cold grip was soon to be upon her. In the distance, as all things converged towards the horizon, the sight of some children playing in a driveway sped past, causing her to close her eyes and exhale deeply.

Before the ambulance could get to the center, however, another wave of pain leapt into her chest, sending her into another coughing fit, this time even stronger than the last. Though those present tried to hold her down, it was useless as her body convulsed as it tried in vain to purge what ailed it, as a volcano expelling its burning contents. Her only solace was the slow dimming of her view as her surroundings slowly faded away in her drift into unconsciousness. Blackness surrounded her thereafter. The darkness of the unconscious mind is always a peculiar one, as it is always present, yet it is one that the sufferer will never remember, whether they live or die.

This time, however, it was not yet the right moment for Sarah. After a period of time that was lost into the mists, Sarah’s eyelids slowly opened, and her eyes tiredly traced the room from one side to the other. She was in a plain hospital bed, with a curtain around the area, blocking off her vision from the rest of the room. The window in the room had been kind enough to place itself next to her, but at this time of year there was very little to see except for the steady falling of snowflakes as winter makes its push in earnest.

She wondered silently about what had happened and where she was – whether the procedure had been a success, whether she was at the medical center, or whether her whole life until this moment had simply been a dream. Time did not grant her very long to ponder over these questions, however, as two voices could faintly be heard getting nearer, one of which was her father’s, and the other of which she could not recognize.

“Mr. Robinson, please understand; we could not–”

“I don’t want a story! I want to know what you’re going to do for my daughter!”

“We performed a chest x-ray in our preparations, and found that the damage to her respiratory system is far beyond what we had anticipated. We can’t proceed under these circumstances. Mr. Robinson–”

“I was told she was enrolled as a patient! I was told you were going to cure her!”

“Mr. Robinson, if we went through with the procedure there is a high likelihood that she would die from it.”

“She’s going to die anyway! What good are you?”

“I’m sorry, but we couldn’t take that chance.”

“What chance?”

“Mr. Robinson, please understand that if she died, and an autopsy confirmed that her death was something that we had done, then that would be the end of both this clinical trial and of our careers.”

“Then… that’s it, isn’t it? Fine. I’m too tired.”

The voices ceased thereafter. Sarah offered no reaction except a blank stare, physically at the curtain in front of her, but mentally at nothing whatsoever. The curtain offered no response whatsoever, anyway. Footsteps in the room broke the silence and a short while later her father drew back the curtain surrounding her. He gave her a brave smile, but could not keep it up for more than a second or two. Taking a seat at her bedside, he spoke.

“There’s, uh…” He conspicuously coughed. “There’s been some… change of plans, and I…”

“I know, Daddy.”

“Right, well… right.”

Silence reigned thereafter, save for an audible inhale and exhale from her father.

“I want to go home, Daddy.”

“Right. Yes, right; I want to go home too. We’ll go home. Nothing much else for us here, after all.”

Slowly, Sarah was loaded back into another ambulance to take her back home. The trip back seemed much, much longer than the trip there. Seconds blended into minutes, and minutes into what seemed like hours. The entire time, however, Sarah never bothered to look out the windows. She knew that there would be nothing for her there anymore. By this time, her fatigue was such that it was tiring simply to keep her eyes open.

Through almost no effort of her own, she was helped back into her home, and then back into the bed in which she had spent much of her life. Once her head was back upon the pillow, she turned her head to the side, facing away from the window. No longer could her mind maintain any desire for a place in time; rather, she just wanted to fade away as she knew all things eventually would. The gray clouded sunlight coming in through the window offered little comfort or warmth in the winter of her life.

Somewhere in the back of her head, she could hear the sound of the door open, and then voices muffled in the haze of her mind came through.

“Mr. Robinson?” came the first voice. “What’s going on? I heard–”

“What do you want, Doctor?” replied her father.

She grit her teeth, trying to block out the increasingly loud voices, but eventually they became too much to ignore.

“You told me she could be a test patient! You told me they could cure her!”

“Mr. Robinson, I must admit that I have to sympathize with them, and I assure you that any doctor in their position would have made the same call.”

“Then what good are you? Huh? What good are you all?”

“Mr. Robinson, this is precisely why I said I did not wish to raise any hopes.”

“All the wonders of modern medicine, and my daughter dies because some cowards were too afraid to use any of it – is that really it?”

“You know as well as I do that they are correct that it would be the end of everything for them if your daughter had died.”

“Then answer the question: what good are you!?”

There was only an audible sigh as a response.

“None! That’s what. So get out. Get out of my house! If you won’t cure my daughter, then get out of my house!”

“But Sarah–”

“Shut up! She’s going to die because of you! Get out!”

There was nothing more audible except footsteps and the sound of a door opening and closing.

Though Sarah stayed motionless, a single, salty tear made its way across her cheek before becoming absorbed in the emotionless pillow on which her head lay. Whether or not her father were right that the doctors had been cowards, Dr. Suzuki was nonetheless more than that to her – he was, or had been, a friend. Now she knew there was no one else to come for her. The world had abandoned her and left her all alone. She waited for the blackness to take her for one last time, to her final, peaceful sleep. Death no longer brought fear into her heart; it had now become something that she almost desired.

It was not to be just yet, however. Behind her, she heard a faint sound, unexpected enough to make her rouse enough strength to turn herself over and get her eyes to focus. There, outside her window among now-melting snow on the tree, was the songbird, once more providing her with his gentle voice. She shivered, and weakly looked back to her room. She knew that she had to escape before it was too late.

Without another thought, she threw aside her blankets, and got to her feet. Opening the window, she placed one foot on the windowsill, and then leapt into the open air, a smile beginning to emerge on her face. As the wind caressed her hair as a mother would caress a newborn, she could feel her now-weightless body beginning to shrink. Her clothing evaporated into the air, and feathers began to sprout on her steadily smaller body. In one fell swoop, wings took the place of her arms and her face was adorned with a characteristic beak. Flying off in the direction of the tree, she was finally free.

“Sarah?”

Her father’s voice came into the room, but received no reply.

“Sarah?”

As he made his way into the room, he quickly saw why he was receiving no reply. There, drooped motionless over the side of her bed, was Sarah. Her father bent down and checked for any signs of life in her body at all, but none were to be found. He grit his teeth and bobbed his head from left to right in a vain attempt to figure out what to do as the tears began to well in his eyes. Just as they were about to surface, however, he noticed her notebook lying open to a page on the ground, her pencil lying close by. He picked it up and looked at the page, and finally the tears burst forth as he sobbed uncontrollably while holding the notebook against his chest.

On the notebook was not a picture, but instead three words, very weakly scrawled on the page:

Nothing hurts forever.

And in the tree outside the window, two songbirds chirped their happy little songs.